


Wildflowers

by mirqueen



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Romance, Spiritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:57:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirqueen/pseuds/mirqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I stood in a field of wildflowers, marked only by that dear lady whom saw my coming and my going in the silence of a starlit night… As he sails for Valinor, Legolas remembers his only love. (Mild AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wildflowers

Disclaimer: I do not own nor make any profit off of _The Lord of the Rings_ or any related works. It all belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, New Line Cinema, etc.

A/N:In Professor Tolkien’s universe, there is no mention of Legolas ever marrying in Arda. This is one possibility that entered my mind. May be considered AU in some aspects, but not very many I would wager. Legolas/OC.

> **Wildflowers**

To Gimli’s distinctly non-Elvish eyesight, it seemed that Legolas was lost in dreams without even sleeping. Indeed, the elf’s eyes were wide open and as clear as the stars on a moonless night. The early morning sun cast a golden-white glow about his friend’s lean form and even with Lord Glorfindel standing beside him, it seemed that the younger elf was exceptionally bright.

The reborn balrog-slayer had become a frequent companion for Legolas in the last, waning years of Elessar’s reign. Gimli suspected it was a relief to have someone who understood the longing to go into the West while still ignoring the feeling in favor of a promise made. Glorfindel did not seem perturbed as he also perused the ocean waves from Legolas’ side, but Gimli was not prepared to take his word versus a line of inquiry.

"Does something pester your mind, laddie?" The stout dwarf did not need to state a name for Legolas to understand that the question was directed at him. Friends did not require so many inquisitions on some subjects after this many years of comradeship.

"Nay, my friend." The dutiful response did not seem adequate on its own. "I would not say it ‘pesters’ me, as yet…"

A small smile crossed the young archer’s face when Gimli harrumphed in agitation. It was so like his dwarven companion to want more information than what was likely considered proper conversational material. Apparently Glorfindel agreed with Legolas’ theory for he too was smiling, albeit in a rather more sly and mysterious manner.

"I am simply remembering," the former Prince of Mirkwood cut off what he imagined would have been a particularly unfriendly remark about his unwillingness to discuss anything with anyone.

"Remembering what, for instance?" The red-bearded dwarf was most insistent, but instead of insulted at this breech of common formalities (as his father likely was at the moment), Legolas found himself in an unorthodox position of wishing to speak what was on his heart and mind this day.

In blissful memory the fair-haired archer closed his eyes; sights and scents of a multitude too large to describe flashed through the paths of his mind like the first flurries of snow in early wintertime.

"A lady," came the prince’s soft response at last. Thranduil seemed very mildly aghast at the bluntness of that statement, by Legolas’ reckoning, but there was no reason to hide anything now. As far as the archer was concerned, he trusted all aboard as implicitly as he would his own mind.

"A lady, you say?" Elladan, curious as ever, entered the conversation from the prow of the ship where Cirdan had given him the helm for a time. "I never heard you speak of a lady. Truly, I have never even heard rumor of you finding love in the slightest."

"I have found it," Legolas admitted freely, turning to face his companions as Glorfindel glanced toward him from the corner of his eye. "It is of the love we shared for a time that I reminisce."

"By the Stars," Gimli exhaled loudly in astonishment, gazing in wonder at the stoic friend he had accompanied all these long years after the war had ended, "You must surely tell us of her. At first I believed you to be dreaming in the broad light of day, but I had certainly not expected this."

Smiling slightly, the archer leaned back against the rail of the ship with graceful ease and thought how to begin his story.

"Oh, I  _did_  dream…” the young elf’s tone was misty with reminiscence as he recalled his only love. “I dreamed of slender arms and gentle hands… Sweet, rose-colored lips… Silken tresses of raven hair brushing across my skin. A tender smile and sparkling dark eyes looking at me with such a love as only comes once in a lifetime… Yet she was full of fire, my lady; feisty to her very bones and equally as stubborn as she was moody. I will not claim to you that we were without argument or reproach between the two of us. But within the same breath I will tell you that she was wonderful and affectionate.”

Thranduil felt his eyes misting over slightly from the love in his youngest child’s voice. He had carried the same measure of love for his dear wife for a great number of years and still retained that tell-tale emotion within his heart. Why had he never recognized his son’s love-filled heart before? Had he been blind to it or ignored it in some way? It felt treacherous to be so ignorant of his own son’s feelings. An even greater question to his worried mind was why in all of Arda had his son never married this deeply-loved lady? Had he believed his father incapable of accepting her? The theory was foolhardy even for the most unrealistic of beings.

Despite the questions brimming in all his companions, the young prince’s story was not interrupted. The mist arisen from the sea to rest around them added a great mystery to this unknown tale, as the spice adds flavor to the meat.

"I remember the moment that my dream came true…" Legolas saw himself standing amongst a field of flowers beneath a high stone balcony before climbing up to his tall, radiant lady as swiftly and silently as any specter. "I stood in a field of wildflowers, marked only by that dear lady whom saw my coming and my going in the silence of a starlit night."

He had left her as he had come, a pale ghost which leaves no visible mark, but whom has affected much. At times the solemn, lonely part of his mind had questioned if he was not just that… a specter of insignificant meaning in a life of such color, beauty, and energy that it could never be replicated by any life that might inhabit the world.

"I remember the night I begged her to leave with me." Legolas’ voice grew impossibly sad and Thranduil’s eyes flew to his son’s face for some degree of understanding. Who was this lady that had taken so much of his son’s heart and yet left his family in complete ignorance of her undeniably important place in the prince’s life? The last King of the Greenwood pondered this puzzle with a frustrating lack of answers as his son continued to speak. "It was in the same gently flowering field where she had first grasped my heart so tightly."

Such was the strength of their love that he would have risked duty and honor and title for her heart. His very family, he would have willingly given up for the only thing she had to offer… her love. Yet nothing more would he have asked of her, for her affection was a far greater offering than mere riches or title could have provided.

"She would not come," he admitted ever more sadly, but with resignation. However, his friends’ bristling grumbles and exhales made him smile once again. "It was her request that I not abandon my family and my duties. She begged it of me; to go back and take only the memory of our blooming romance with me upon my return."

The formerly snarling and snapping countenances of his younger friends aboard were swiftly replaced with the shocked or softening faces of ones who understood the sacrifice of a loving heart. Legolas’ beatific smile was their reward for this understanding. It seemed compensation enough for the rejection they had become so offensive of a mere moment ago.

"Where is she now?" Elrohir tentatively inquired of the young blond-haired elf, wary of speeding hurt to his heart.

"She passed unto the other side a great many years ago." Legolas’ features bespoke the sorrow of his parting to all who looked upon him.

"She sailed?" Elladan looked with empathy upon his friend, thinking on the pain his mother’s choice had brought their family, even unto that very day as he and his brother sailed to greet her and their beloved father. Legolas did not speak, but turned away toward the sea in a fit of deep and difficult sadness. Stars above, would he ever see her lovely face again? Valinor might be the blessed realm of rest and peace, but how could one move on without the other half of their soul?

"Nay," Celeborn spoke at last, a deep sorrowful façade wrinkling the otherwise smooth skin of his brow, "she did not sail."

The implications of this unexpected statement left a silence among the passengers of the ship. Thranduil could not believe how much he did not know about his own son. Even Lord Celeborn seemed to understand the strange and unwritten events that had occurred so long ago. Would Legolas even speak of it again, if he asked it of him? The former King had no wish to cause pain to his youngest, but he wanted to understand that which he had not been apart of. The conversation was lost in the wind as they traveled ever nearer to their destination. Gimli refrained from words for now, but ever did he wish he knew some words of comfort for his dear friend. Thranduil found no way of broaching this sensitive topic with his child, even as much as he wished he could help. Legolas spoke no more, but continued to stare out at the sea in longing for the lady who was his heart’s desire. Glorfindel was ever by his side with a hand upon his shoulder, leading all to believe that the elder elf knew the most about who the lady was and how she had passed from Arda.

Days or perhaps weeks passed this way, it did not truly matter to any but Gimli, who was becoming increasingly agitated by the length of this voyage. Lord Cirdan’s estimated travel time was off kilter by at least a week, he was certain of it! Something was not right or they would have been there by now.

Not a full day had passed from this thought that Gimli was sent tumbling by a wave that rocked the entire ship about. Cirdan was entirely unfazed by the increasingly rough going and by the time Gimli had noticed any change in the rocking of their vessel he was already standing and gazing at the whitest beach he had ever beheld in his lifetime. So many elves waited in the quay that the passengers looked at one another in rapt curiosity. It was no small wonder that they had attracted such a host, what with seven renowned Elven Lords aboard and a not-so-unknown dwarf as their companion. Legolas’ eyes easily caught sight of the Lady Galadriel at the head of the queue, along with a silver-haired elf that made Legolas cry out in joy, the first sound he had made in days. Elladan and Elrohir followed his line of sight only to exclaim similar joyful proclamations at the sight of Haldir, returned to them from Mandos. Celeborn chuckled amusedly at the young ones, glad himself that the young Captain had been returned.

Beside his son, Thranduil spotted his wife and elder children amongst the front lines as well, looking more radiant than he had ever seen them.

"Legolas, there!" he commented happily to his son, whose jubilant face upon seeing the rest of his family was beyond heartening for his father’s worried mind.

As the ship docked, those aboard stepped off with varying emotions coiling amongst them, Cirdan and Celeborn leading the way toward Galadriel. Elrond’s sons followed their Grandfather and the mariner with a confidence all their own and matching grins. Legolas gently and calmly gestured his father to walk ahead with Gimli, whom the King had taken an especially large liking to ever since the dwarf had comforted his son upon the death of King Elessar. Glorfindel took the hint for what it was and stepped off with the Prince, all the while eyeing the crowd for the one elf he dearly wished to see whole and healed of darkness.

After a great many welcomes had been proclaimed and hands shaken, Legolas was amongst his parents and elder siblings, basking in the love of their embraces and words. Glorfindel was ever near, but the sight of a dark head drew him further to the middle of the crowd.

"Glorfindel!" a laughing voice claimed said elf’s attention for a mere moment before the warrior recklessly pounced the owner of that magnificent baritone.

No one appeared at all shocked when Lord Glorfindel, renowned balrog-slayer and warrior, threw his arms about the former Lord of Imladris and laughed like a child in his happiness. The golden-haired elf could not believe the strength and energy his friend was imbued with. It was as if the younger Lord had been fused with light itself for all his bright and shining countenance.

"Elrond," Glorfindel was awed and grinning in equal measure, bringing a hearty laugh bubbling up his friend’s throat. No more words were necessary in that moment. Elrond turned to face his dear Lady Celebrian, whose arms hung from the strong forearms of their twin sons.

"We are all here now," Elrond voiced gently, "All that we may rightfully hope for. Come, let us remove ourselves from this madness."

Glorfindel was all too happy to retire into the company of this family that he had so sorely missed. His only regret was that the lady Arwen could not be there with them.

"Arwen will always be in our hearts and memories," Elrond seemed to read his mind, as he always had. "We have had time to grieve and though we will never forget her, we will shift our focus onto the living… One of whom you have not seen for many a year, my old friend."

Confused words could not pass the golden warrior’s lips before a vision of loveliness stepped from behind Celebrían and the twins. No description of amazement, nor dreams of perfection, could ever equal the sense of giddy relief Glorfindel could feel leaking from every pore. With a gentle embrace and a tear upon his face for the young lady so long-missed, the elder elf stepped back only to call through the crowd for the one person who needed her presence the most.

Legolas’ family was as close as he had remembered them and now allowing his dear, dwarven friend to live equally as close in their hearts. Gimli was easily entrenched in the telling of how he befriended Legolas during the war, during which Legolas had no trouble discerning the telltale voice of Glorfindel calling him out. Heading toward the sound of that clear voice led the archer to a place on the edge of the gathered crowd, where he found Elrond and his wife and sons waiting with smiling faces. Smiling in return, Legolas allowed himself to be embraced by this family that he had come to see as a part of his own. Released from Celebrian’s motherly embrace, Legolas felt happier than he had in years. Nearly everyone he could have asked for was here and happy to see him. If that one special lady was not there, then he still needed to live for the family he was given, no matter how hard it might be.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, the blonde elf caught sight of a dream that he was utterly positive he never wanted to wake up from.

"Merael…" the whispered name dropped softly from his lips, as if the wind had carried it gently away into the hands of Eru himself for safekeeping.

He was falling in love all over again… falling in love with one of a new, matured spirit and heart; one whose eyes sparkled ever brighter from the tears in her eyes as she laid them upon his face once more; one whose arms held him tighter, whose lips kissed him fiercer, and whose spirit clung ever closer to his… one whose fear was overcome and overridden amongst the sweet hopes of their joined hearts. Somehow, in-between reassurances and sweet nothings, Legolas had proposed and been accepted. It felt more natural than anything he had ever heard before.

Amidst the kisses and embraces and tears, Legolas found himself looking into his father’s drawn face with worry and apprehension that he had never felt before.

"Adar," Legolas’ voice trembled ever-so-slightly, betraying the turmoil behind his deceptively steely blue eyes, "I would like you to meet Merael, the lady of whom I spoke. I am going to marry her."

If Thranduil was shocked, he did not show it upon his features. Gazing at his son’s love, the former King knew exactly why Legolas had not come to him.

"I see now," the elder elf spoke softly, "why you had never told me. Certainly, if I had known then that you were courting the eldest child of Elrond Peredhel, I would never have blessed it… How wrong I would have been to react so."

Elrond joined his daughter and Legolas in snapping eyes to Thranduil in stunned silence.

"I cannot apologize enough for making you feel and act the way you did, my son," the former elven King gravely continued; Legolas stared at his father in tearful forgiveness. "And please, Lady Merael, allow me to invite you into our family ahead of time. You are  _most_ welcome.”

Among his memories in the years to come, the golden-haired Prince would recall awakening to a mist-covered field, his wife warm and comforting by his side. Legolas would remember thanking Iluvatar that her breath came comfortably and that his life had once again become as colorful as the wildflowers around them.

* * *

 


End file.
